WildCORE: Image Future Shock (Part One)
by HawkeyePierce
Summary: "Home is Where You Hang Your Daemonite" 200 years have passed but what is 200 years to a Kheran? To a Daemonite? To a D'rahn? The tale that began 200 years ago continunes as the eternal alien struggle explodes once more but is Earth really the ultimat


**WildCORE: IFS Issue #1   
"Home is Where You Hang Your Daemonite"  
Written by Matt Pierce  
Edited by Jacob Milnestein**

The name of the building no longer mattered. At least six buildings came before this one and if things didn't change soon, more would come after it. Whatever it was called before, it was simply the `Citadel' now, not nearly as tall as its predecessors were and not nearly as beautiful or divine as the original. Those meeting places that came before, along with most of the men and women who met there, had fallen; casualties of a war that had raged on for centuries with the latest reprieve beginning just a few short days ago. 

The meeting room was once a cramped operations office for a series of officials responsible for running day-to-day operations in this civil zone. Chased out by the initial wave of bombings and door-to-door onslaught, the officials were now nothing more than scraps left behind for Muttocks to feed upon. The meeting room had since become the place where generals met to plan strategy, just in case the fragile truce was in fact temporary. One such general was adorned with savage plates of crimson which guarded her lightly tanned flesh yet did nothing to mask her beauty or her tenacity.

`...losses here, here and here have severed the main force from their re-supply routes. Cease fire or no, we could press our advantage and completely surround the front echelon. In a matter of weeks we could bring about the utter collapse of the main force!" She stood with pride in her eyes, silver bangs hovering over her eyelids and a single braid of the same color tossed over her armored shoulder. She was Zannah, a zealot, a warrior born and the reigning Majestrix of the Kherubim's Coda militia. Her Amazon-like soldiers knew no equal, embracing the dance of battle and revelling in the blood of their enemy, which often stained their skin and armor. It was often believed that what these women lost in love and sensuality they got back in cruelness and cold, lethal savagery. Their pleasure came soaked in blood, and their joy from the thrill of murder, an erotic rapture they shared side by side with their sisters who were everything from lovers to partners to kin. 

"A sound assessment. I propose a rear assault comprised of your Coda with selective targeting of their leadership and generators." Her partner in conversation was a tall, broad shouldered `man' with eyes that radiated a sapphire hue. His uniform was of blue, red and silver and he was far from the first to carry his name. He looked quizzically at another in the room, a tall dark skinned man with hair of gold and the uniform and insignia of a Kherubim Lord. The Lord kept his back to the others; his hands clasped at the small of his back as he looked out a windowed bulkhead and listened. 

"Spartan, you suggest a deployment of Khera's finest soldiers when you have no right to do so. My ranks are depleted, attrition overcoming even my camps of reserves and trainees! Surely your legion of androids can engage the force from two separate fronts!"

"A two pronged attack will be beneficial but may I remind you that the Ore mines report a staggering loss of minerals needed in android construction. Where once androids such as myself were plentiful, the destruction of the mines on Verridia has forced us to mine our own world for these ores. Should this conflict continue--"

"If you engage on two fronts, this WAR will not continue!" Zannah shouted, slamming her hands on either side of the digi-map and leaning close to Spartan's android face. "You androids are merely fodder and shall be deployed as such. We will strike hard and fast and end the D'rahn once and for all!" With the final words said, Zannah raised an armored gauntlet and squeezed as if the heart of the D'rahn Alpha, the enemy field commander, was in her very hand.

"And then what? Commence bombardment of their Hive?" The Lord remained still, only his head turning slightly as if to hear the reply to his question.

"How else do you plan on total eradication of the D'rahn? It worked once before, did it not?" Zannah replied, turning away from the map and Spartan.

"I almost forgot why I left all of you all the last time. Your lack of compassion surprises me." Visually sickened by the conversation, the Lord faced the windowed bulkhead once more. "We've cornered the D'rahn and made our demands clear. Won't you even consider dialogue with them?"

"Dialogue? The only dialogue I will entertain is a Coda Priestess reading the Alpha's last rites! Might I remind you of the outcome of the last cease-fire? They doubled their number and slaughtered the medics we sent to the battlefield! The D'rahn disintegrate their dead, what use do they have for a cease-fire when they have no medics or grave diggers?"

"We've taken steps to avoid a repeat incident this time, Zannah."

"You are a fool, Ferrian!" Zannah spat violently.

Ferrian spun on his heel and launched a finger towards Zannah's face. Anger lit up his eyes and the walls shook from his voice. "This FOOL has won more battles with logic and compassion that you have with your unwavering hate and blind rage! My campaigns have saved thousands of lives, including your own if I'm not mistaken."

"I am not afraid of death." Zannah pursed her lips and raised her chin higher towards the ceiling. For countless years Zannah had fought against the Daemonites on Earth, both covertly and in the open. As the Coda warrior known as Zealot, Zannah once formed and led the Earth cult of Coda, leaving them to join the WildCATS. Formed by the Kherubim High Lord, Emp, to battle the Daemonites full out, the WildCATS were successful in their campaigns but when the Daemonite threat was nearly abolished, the threat of the D'rahn was renewed. Zealot joined other Kherubim who were experienced in dealing with these alien dreadnoughts on a new team dubbed WildCORE which was created to battle Earth's growing alien and paranormal threat.

"And I'm not afraid to send you to death!" There was a moment of silence before Ferrian resumed. "But I won't, not while we still have a chance to end this without more bloodshed." Ferrian walked away from Zannah who's gaze followed him. Zannah never considered the idea of Ferrian ordering her on a mission of certain suicide, even if such a command was glorious for one of Coda training. "You and the others have always questioned why I turned away from the Atlantis Crusades and I use this to illustrate my point." Ferrian motioned an open hand towards the window but Zannah and Spartan did not need to look. It was a scene they had to endure every sunrise and sunset.

Khera was in ruin. Streets that were once common with ornaments of gold and aliens of mixed race were now riddled with craters that pierced bedrock and a layer of gray ash that seemed to cover everything. The skyline, once decorated with spires that tickled the very atmosphere, had turned dark as dusk; only the occasional skeletal corpse of a once proud building or tower left seen. Plumes of smoke scattered throughout the landscape, spewed toxic smoke up towards the clouds, resulting in an acid rain that devastated much of the relics once found in the city-nations. Grass was unheard of and water undrinkable. Those that were not of the militia or the constantly revolving government had fled Khera years ago, making the planet little more than a fortress from which to launch countless raids against the D'rahn Queen. Such was the cost of war that Ferrian referred to with such distaste and such were the losses that a Coda born rarely considered until it was too late.

"Surely this is not the first front line you have bore witness to Ferrian. Might I remind you of the war against the Daemonites that introduced us to the D'rahn to begin with? Or perhaps the fallen pillars and citadels of Atlantis remain fresh in your mind? Better yet, what of Earth and her stunted growth, a victim of a secret pact between the Kherubim Senate and Daemonite triumvirate to fight our war away from colonized worlds? No matter the war and no matter the race, Ferrian, cities fall and people die," Zannah offered, looking back down at the map. 

"Nice speech," Ferrian lied. "I don't care if you want to commit genocide on the D'rahn, Zannah, but I have other concerns about this cease-fire." Ferrian glanced at her from over his shoulder and walked away from the bulkhead.

"Such as?" Spartan asked, having remained silent during the spat.

"The Daemonites. The terrorist incident on Sille was led by `enlightened' Daemonites. Those earth borne abominations were supposedly finished off back when Marc Slayton and his band destroyed the D'rahn Alpha, Typhon, during the Despot Ascension." 

"Yes, but the D'rahn were wounded and left Earth. WildCORE split in two back then, the full blooded Kherubim returning to Khera and the half-breeds staying to defend Earth since she was their home and Khera, ours," Zannah recalled.

"We assessed that it would be a tactical advantage for the remaining D'rahn to try and persuade the Daemonites living in Kheran ghettos, to revolt against the higher class. We didn't know how right we were."

Ferrian nodded, acknowledging Spartan's recollections. This model of the common Spartan android was not present back then; his memories were based totally on digitized memory engrams recorded from previous Spartan models and downloaded into this Spartan's computer brain. It was Yon Khol's memories Spartan was recalling, just as if they were his own. Yon K'hol, the model for the Spartan program and the WildCATS' former leader, had departed Earth with Ferrian and the others but returned after the first cease-fire. He was never heard from again, nor was it known whether or not he ever reached Earth. 

"So the question you should be asking is..."

"Where did the D'rahn get Daemonites to enhance? Certainly you do not suspect that the two races allied?" Zannah abandoned the map board and walked towards Ferrian. "I too have read the reports of the Daemonite civil wars but... an alliance?"

"The D'rahn Alpha is not without a sense of humor. It would be poetic justice for him to ally with the very race that we together sought to destroy," Spartan analyzed the logic.

"Of course after we are destroyed, the D'rahn would make quick work of the Daemonites... betraying them as we once did to them," Ferrian concluded.

"So how do we find out which faction of Daemonites might be allied with them?" Zannah asked, her hand instinctively brushing the hilt of her sword. Ever since the attempt on her life by a Daemonite spy within the Coda, Zannah never felt totally safe around anyone.

"The Daemonites not on Earth are traditionally isolationists, focused on repairing their society after centuries of war. Our best strategists do not expect an aggressive movement for at least another hundred years at best," assessed Spartan. 

"Our best strategists are fucking idiots," Ferrian countered, turning back towards Spartan with disgust.

"Surely, you do not think them capable..."

"Ferrian is right. The Daemonites are like roaches. They do not need a hundred years to recreate their society... they'll simply leech of another until nothing is left but waste and then move on." Zannah sighed and sat on the edge of the table, drumming long red nails on the Kheran marble surface. 

"And what of the second faction... the one who sent scouts to Earth nearly a hundred years ago? Certainly if they were bold enough to break away from their home world they'd be bold enough to ally with the D'rahn."

Ferrian nodded at Spartan's words and pursed his lips as he paced back and forth before the windowed bulkhead before him. "I think what we are finding out here is that given all these years of war against the D'rahn, we've lost touch with the Daemonites. We don't know their political situation or how much of a threat they are to us. I don't think we have any choice but to take advantage of our cease-fire with the D'rahn to investigate the Daemonites current role in this war."

Zannah inhaled sharply as if to protest but Ferrian responded first, pointing a finger towards her. "I'll send order to the Mines to start ore replication and to the armories for the construction of two brigades of Spartan drones. Meanwhile, prepare your Coda for a two pronged attack, just in case the D'rahn ARE playing possum."

The edge of Zannah's lip twisted into a smile while Spartan showed no outward display of reaction to Ferrian's commands. When Zannah turned back towards the room's exit she was surprised to see the three were no longer alone.

"That will not be necessary. The D'rahn's losses are not a deception." 

One of Ferrian's eyebrows lifted as he saw his fellow Kherubim Lord enter the main room. Even after all these years, he still insisted on wearing his red and white suit with that annoying ankle length cape. "Majestros! Back from the Fringes already?"

Lord Majestros, or Mister Majestic as some still called him, was perhaps the most powerful of the Kherubim. He was also as wondrous as his namesake with his towering height, massive frame and long black hair. Besides the trademark- enhanced strength and invulnerability of a Kherubim, Majestros enjoyed some other enhanced abilities as well. "Indeed. I would have been here sooner except that I drifted a few parsecs in order to analyze some mineral I found on a passing comet neat Derander. At any rate, I could hear your bickering all the way from the tri-rings of Palamedes Minor!"

Ferrian was amused at Majestros' grouchiness, especially when it was directed at Zannah. The contrast of his attitude and her bitchiness kept them distracted to the point where Ferrian was often allowed an opportunity to focus on something else. "Did you have something to add? You certainly had the mileage to think of an alternate strategy."

"Not exactly. I agree that we should gather some intelligence regarding the Daemonites' current situation. We still have yet to identify the separate factions or the current leaders behind them. Perhaps by seeking them out we can also determine whom it is that is providing the D'rahn with cannon fodder. I have no input as to which group of Daemonites we should start with, those on Daemon or those on Earth."

"Looks like I joined this conversation just in time!" The voice was young and cheerful despite the fact that it was laced with noted sarcasm. Everyone identified the voice immediately and everyone had a different reaction to it. As always, Zannah was the first to display hers.

"You didn't join this conversation, Kenesha! And you won't still! Return to your studies, we'll be off soon."

"Sorry, sis. Save that `over protective sibling' crap for someone who cares!" Kenesha, once known on Earth as Savant, ran a gloved hand through her cropped, blonde hair as she stepped past her older sister. She carried a thin stack of papers, probably survey results and signal translations since that was the type of information she occupied herself with these days.

"I have told you before, Kenesha, that these proceedings are not meant to be barged in on, especially by the likes of you! This room is meant for warriors, not scholars or analysts!" Zannah grabbed her sister's shoulder, an armored gauntlet pressing the weaker flesh that it found there.

"Take it easy, Zannah. All four of us have been indecisive about the Daemonite situation. I don't doubt Kenesha has something to offer. Let's hear her out," Ferrian said.

Albeit reluctantly, Zannah released Kenesha's shoulder and stepped back to join Majestros who seemed displeased with the outburst between sisters. Kenesha handed the documents to Ferrian who mused as he studied them. Most of it was translation of carrier signals and highlighted pieces of signals traffic that indicated something large was moving across space. This not being Ferrian's speciality, he wasn't sure what Kenesha was trying to indicate.

"What is this trying to tell me, Kenesha?"

"It's telling you we should go back to Earth!" Savant beamed.

Ferrian groaned and let the hand holding the documents fall to his side. "Kenesha how many times have we been over this?"

"`Let her speak,' he says. `Let's hear her out,' he says." Zannah mumbled.

Majestros looked down at her, unamused. 

"Ferrian, I swear this isn't some sort of trick to get us back to Earth. It's real this time!"

"Not like the Damocles Resurrection stunt you pulled?"

"Not so... intricate, no," Savant replied. 

"Girl, we haven't time for your attempts to rein us back to Earth. Your insignificant studies and pet projects mean nothing while the D'rahn are still alive! Your playground will have to wait until the war is over, THEN you may return to your playthings!"

"Do... NOT, call me `girl' again, Zannah. I'm more woman than any of your stick figured Coda whores could ever dream to be!" Kenesha retorted, sticking her tongue out.

"Let's test that theory," Zannah pulled at her blade's hilt.

"Let's not. Tell Ferrian what you saw, Kenesha," Majestros prompted, placing a hand over Zannah's and forcing the blade back into its sheath.

"Science vessels. Big ones."

"Daemonite science vessels? Going where?"

Kenesha smiled instead of answering.

"That would coincide with what Kenesha and I have been studying over the past several weeks," Spartan finally spoke up. "There have been strange communication signals passed over a thin wavelength through space, originating from Earth. Dormant Signal Repeaters were re-transmitting the signals into Daemonite space. Kenesha and I were trying to determine the points of origin and we were able to confirm several of them as being on Earth."

"I don't see what this has to do with science vessels, Spartan."

"One such point of origin was an excavated site where StormWatch operatives thought they found a Daemonite bunker in the later part of the 20th century," Spartan explained.

"Serbia. 1997," Kenesha offered with a smile.

"The Daemonite armory," Zannah whispered.

"Perhaps. We weren't given the opportunity to investigate since the D'rahn were awakened shortly thereafter," Spartan added.

"And then there was the ordeal with Kenyan and the Kherubim armories," Zannah said.

"If they are cache sites, the Daemonites might be going back to retrieve whatever is in them. If they are science facilities then the Daemonites might be planning to use them or recover them. Anyway, I thought you'd like to know."

"I would assume that settles the question of which Daemonites we engage first. It also explains the vibrations I felt along the fabric of space as I flew past the Cordonos system." Majestros stated.

"Should I ready a crew, sir?" Spartan asked, switching off his monitoring equipment.

Ferrian looked down into Kenesha's eyes and saw hope and excitement stare back at him. "Negative." He looked at each of the faces before him. They were old friends that he trusted for what seemed like several lifetimes. "No one knows that planet like we do. No one knows their culture or history like we do. We, in many cases, defined their history for them or were there when new religions or beliefs were first created. Hell, some of us STARTED new religions and beliefs. The fact is, in some ways we helped create humanity on Earth and now OUR history might be endangering their way of life yet again. I think we owe it to Earth, which in some way is a child of Khera, to return there and see to it that the Daemonite and D'rahn threat is expunged for good." Ferrian stepped away from the windowed bulkhead and set Kenesha's papers on the table. "I take it there are no objections?"

Silence filled the room but the looks and facial expressions that answered back spoke volumes. In this moment of pompous arrogance, none hesitated at the chance to return to Earth, to return to the planet that they gave birth to. None of the Kherubim in the room realized how unlike Khera, Earth had truly become in their absence. 

Ferrian straightened and looked to Spartan with a nod. "Prepare my ship. We depart on the morrow."

**------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Next Issue Paragraph!:** The surviving members of WildCORE form again to return to Earth, intent on saving the planet Earth whether they like it or not. Too bad the Earth isn't too big on having visits these days! It's crash and burn time for the new WildCORE as the team finds itself stranded... on Mars??!!! 

**------------------------------------------------------------------------**

WILD Words - The Letter Column

Several years ago two creative geniuses by the names of Lee and Choi brought us a team called the WildC.A.T.S. Not long afterwards two more men of intelligence entered the scene with a character known as Backlash. That would be Ruffner and Booth. As the WildC.A.T.S. matured with help from such names as Claremont, Moore and Charest, so did Backlash. His book was cancelled and in its place came WildCORE, a book about several Kherubim teaming up to battle extra-terrestrial and paranormal threats to the planet. 

There is your history lesson. Now forget all that you know. Several months after the cancellation of WildCORE, things begin to get worse for our team and just when they begin to look better... things hit the crapper again. This is a tale of the Kherubim, the vicious alien bastards who'd like to think they are the good guys but have a nasty habit of bulldozing any poor shmuck who gets in their way. In this case, that poor shmuck is the planet Earth. Choose someone you think you know real well and pitch them forward in time a couple hundred years, forcing them to endure all sorts of $hit. Now you have WildCORE. Enjoy your stay. All comments, questions and flames can be directed to the undersigned at [vad_shooter@yahoo.com][1]

--Matt.

   [1]: mailto: vad_shooter@yahoo.com



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